The editor of the Guardian 編集長, Alan Rusbridger

The editor of the Guardian 編集長, Alan Rusbridger

NSA files: why the Guardian in London destroyed hard drives of leaked files

A
threat of legal action by the government that could have stopped
reporting on the files leaked by Edward Snowden led to a symbolic act at
the Guardian's offices in London

Guardian editors on Tuesday revealed why and how the newspaper
destroyed computer hard drives containing copies of some of the secret
files leaked by Edward Snowden.
The
decision was taken after a threat of legal action by the government
that could have stopped reporting on the extent of American and British
government surveillance revealed by the documents.
It
resulted in one of the stranger episodes in the history of digital-age
journalism. On Saturday 20 July, in a deserted basement of the Guardian's
King's Cross offices, a senior editor and a Guardian computer expert
used angle grinders and other tools to pulverise the hard drives and
memory chips on which the encrypted files had been stored.
As they worked they were watched by technicians from Government Communications Headquarters (GCHQ) who took notes and photographs, but who left empty-handed.
The
editor of the Guardian, Alan Rusbridger, had earlier informed
government officials that other copies of the files existed outside the
country and that the Guardian was neither the sole recipient nor steward
of the files leaked by Snowden, a former National Security Agency (NSA) contractor. But the government insisted that the material be either destroyed or surrendered.
Twelve days after the destruction of the files the Guardian reported on US funding of GCHQ eavesdropping operations and published a portrait of working life
in the British agency's huge "doughnut" building in Cheltenham.
Guardian US, based and edited in New York, has also continued to report
on evidence of NSA
co-operation with US telecommunications corporations to maximise the
collection of data on internet and phone users around the world.
The British government has attempted to step up its pressure on journalists, with the detention in Heathrow on Sunday of David Miranda, the partner of Glenn Greenwald, who has led the Guardian's US reporting on the files.
Miranda was detained for nine hours under a section of legislation enacted in 2000 aimed at terrorists. The use of this measure
– which applies only to airports and ports – meant the normal
protection for suspects in the UK, including journalists, did not
apply.
The initial UK attempts to stop reporting on the files came two weeks after the publication of the first story
based on Snowden's leaks, about a secret US court order obliging the
communications corporation Verizon to hand over data on its customers'
phone usage. This was followed by a story detailing how GCHQ was making use of data collected by the NSA's internet monitoring programme, Prism.
The remains of a computer that held files leaked by Edward Snowden
to the Guardian and destroyed at the behest of the UK government.
Photograph: Roger Tooth
Days later the paper published another story revealing how UK intelligence spied on British allies at two London summits.
Shortly
afterwards two senior British officials arrived at the Guardian's
offices to see Rusbridger and his deputy, Paul Johnson. They were
cordial but made it clear they came on high authority to demand the
immediate surrender of all the Snowden files in the Guardian's
possession.
They argued that the material was stolen and that a
newspaper had no business holding on to it. The Official Secrets Act was
mentioned but not threatened. At this stage officials emphasised they
preferred a low-key route rather than go to court.
The Guardian
editors argued that there was a substantial public interest in the
hitherto unknown scale of government surveillance and the collaboration
with technology and telecoms companies, particularly given the apparent
weakness of parliamentary and judicial oversight.
There was no written threat of any legal moves.
After three weeks which saw the publication of several more articles on both sides of the Atlantic about GCHQ and NSA internet and phone surveillance, British government officials got back in touch and took a sterner approach.
"You've had your fun. Now we want the stuff back," one of them said.
The
same two senior officials who had visited the Guardian the previous
month returned with the message that patience with the newspaper's
reporting was wearing out.
They expressed fears that foreign
governments, in particular Russia or China, could hack into the
Guardian's IT network. But the Guardian explained the security
surrounding the documents, which were held in isolation and not stored
on any Guardian system.
However, in a subsequent meeting, an
intelligence agency expert argued that the material was still
vulnerable. He said by way of example that if there was a plastic cup in
the room where the work was being carried out foreign agents could
train a laser on it to pick up the vibrations of what was being said.
Vibrations on windows could similarly be monitored remotely by laser.
Between
16 and 19 July government pressure intensified and, in a series of
phone calls and meetings, the threat of legal action or even a police
raid became more explicit.
At one point the Guardian was told: "We are giving active consideration to the legal route."
Rusbridger
said: "I don't know what changed or why it changed. I imagine there
were different conversations going on within the security apparatus,
within Whitehall and within Downing Street."
The Guardian's
lawyers believed the government might either seek an injunction under
the law of confidence, a catch-all statute that covers any unauthorised
possession of confidential material, or start criminal proceedings under
the Official Secrets Act.
Either brought with it the risk that
the Guardian's reporting would be frozen everywhere and that the
newspaper would be forced to hand over material.
"I explained to
British authorities that there were other copies in America and Brazil
so they wouldn't be achieving anything," Rusbridger said. "But once it
was obvious that they would be going to law I preferred to destroy our
copy rather than hand it back to them or allow the courts to freeze our
reporting."
Any such surrender would have represented a betrayal
of the source, Edward Snowden, Rusbridger believed. The files could
ultimately have been used in the American whistleblower's prosecution.
"I
don't think we had Snowden's consent to hand the material back, and I
didn't want to help the UK authorities to know what he had given us,"
the Guardian editor said.
Furthermore the computer records could
be analysed forensically to yield information on which journalists had
seen and worked with which files.
Rusbridger took the decision
that if the government was determined to stop UK-based reporting on the
Snowden files, the best option was destroy the London copy and to
continue to edit and report from America and Brazil. Journalists in
America are protected by the first amendment, guaranteeing free speech.
Since
a legal case over the publication of the Pentagon Papers by the
Washington Post and New York Times in 1971, it is widely considered that
the US state would not succeed in attempting prior restraint on
publication. The leaked Pentagon Papers revealed top secret details of
the poor progress of the US military campaign in Vietnam.
Talks
began with government officials on a procedure that might satisfy their
need to ensure the material had been destroyed, but which would at the
same time protect the Guardian's sources and its journalism.
The
compromise ultimately brought Paul Johnson, Guardian News and Media's
executive director Sheila Fitzsimons, and one of its top computer
experts, David Blishen, to the basement of its Kings Place office on a
hot Saturday morning to meet two GCHQ officials with notebooks and cameras.
The
intelligence men stood over Johnson and Blishen as they went to work on
the hard drives and memory chips with angle grinders and drills,
pointing out the critical points on circuit boards to attack. They took
pictures as the debris was swept up but took nothing away.
It was a
unique encounter in the long and uneasy relationship between the press
and the intelligence agencies, and a highly unusual, very physical,
compromise between the demands of national security and free expression.
But
it was largely a symbolic act. Both sides were well aware that other
copies existed outside the UK and that the reporting on the reach of
state surveillance in the 21st century would continue.
"It affects
every citizen, but journalists I think should be aware of the
difficulties they are going to face in the future because everybody in
2013 leaves a very big digital trail that is very easily accessed,"
Rusbridger said.
"I hope what [the Miranda detention row] will do
is to send people back to read the stories that so upset the British
state because there has been a lot of reporting about what GCHQ and the NSA are up to. What Snowden is trying to do is draw attention to the degree to which we are on a road to total surveillance."